Believe
by lovable-unicorn99
Summary: Reader is a girl of the law. She doesn't believe in anything that she hasn't seen or felt herself. And she really loves catching bad guys. So she goes after the worst one - Dean Winchester. But one night her boyfriend is murdered mysteriously and she's the main suspect. And it's getting even worse. The only person who's able to save her turns out to be Dean Winchester himself.
1. Chapter 1

You looked at the mess on the desk in front of you. It seemed like there were hundreds of papers and photographs. You were so close to catching that son of a bitch. You just couldn't understand how he was still alive. I mean you had seen him dead, with a bullet in his chest. What was he? A vampire? Maybe, if they existed. But they don't! So he must be really good at what he did. But which normal person would desecrate graves? And why was he doing this? And why was his brother helping him? He seemed really kind and... normal. Maybe he was doing it against his will. Or maybe he was just the same as his bigger brother - a freak. And those tattoos looking like pentagrams. They must be satanists or... I don't know.

"What the hell you think you're doing, (Y/N)?" a very familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You lifted your head only to see your angry boyfriend staying in front of you. His dark brown hair was messy, his not so full lips - pursed and his crystal blue eyes were piercing you. Seeing your confused expression he said: "Dean Winchester? Have you lost your mind?"

Well, you knew it would happen sooner or later. You just wished it would happen later.  
"Hey Mark. My day went good, thanks for asking. How was yours?" you said sarcastic with the sweetest voice you had.

"Don't try to escape! Are you crazy? He's dangerous, (Y/N)! He's a murderer! You want to get yourself hurt?" he almost shouted.

You loved it when he was acting so protective, but at times it was just annoying. I mean you weren't a child who couldn't take care of itself. You were a 26-year-old woman.  
"I'm not a child, Mark! So don't treat me like one! I've never been closer to catching him. I'm not giving up!" you said passing him by and walking out of your office.

A few hours later you were sitting in the living room in your house. Mark was still at the police station and you were alone. It was dark outside. You were watching a stupid TV show when you heard it - a strange sound coming from the kitchen. You thought that the window was open and it was only the wind, but then you heard it again. You turned down the volume of the TV and got up from the couch.

"Mark? You there?" you yelled. There was no answer. "Hello? Mark, is that you?" no answer, again. You were scared. Then you heard something breaking. You grabbed your gun. There was someone in the house. You walked very slowly into the kitchen. Yes, the window was open. You turned the light up and saw it - Mark's lifeless body lying on the floor near the table. His throat was cut and there was blood everywhere. His eyes were still open, as if they were staring at you, begging for mercy.

"MARK!" you screamed. "Oh, my God! Mark!" you were crying, your face was wet. You called Bill. He had to be in the police station right now. Oh, God! You couldn't believe you had a fight just a couple of hours ago. And you didn't even apologized. It was too late. "Bill," your voice was shaking.

"(Y/N)? Is everything ok? Are you alright?" he sounded concerned. You started crying again.

"Bill, it's Mark. H-he is..." you couldn't finish your sentence.

"Hey, (Y/N). Are you hurt? Did he hit you?" the questions were attacking your brain, but you couldn't move your lips. "Hey, you still there? Listen to me (Y/N)! It's gonna be ok!" he said but he was wrong. Nothing would be ok.

"No. It's never gonna be ok. Bill, Mark is... He is dead. He's been murdered," you said, tears streaming down your face. There was silence on the other side for a bit.

"I'm coming. Just try to calm down as much as you can. And do not touch anything. You better don't stay in the room where Mark's body is. I'm on my way," he hung up.

Bill was much older than you. He was like your father. Not that you didn't have father. You just didn't talk to him much. He got crazy when your mom died. You were 15. She was the closest person to you, your best friend. And when she died, and you needed your dad more than anything else, he just forgot about you. He was obsessed with finding out who had killed her. Or maybe I should say _what_ had killed her. Yes, I know it sounds hilarious. But he thought your mother's murderer was a... demon. Can you believe that? A demon. You told him he'd been acting all crazy, but he just continued reading those stupid books. So one day, when you were 19, you left your home town. You went to Chicago and started all over again. There you met Mark. He helped you start working in the police station. Then you became a detective. Mark and you started hanging a lot. And before you knew it you were dating. You loved him so much. And Bill? Bill was your boss. When you met him for the first time you thought he was in his early thirties. His hair was nicely styled with gel. His dark eyes full of life. He really looked very young. Few hours later Mark told you that Bill was actually 42. You didn't know how to talk to him or what to do. And when you realised how cool he was, he became one of your closest friends. Even closer than your own father. And in that moment, 7 years later and one boyfriend less, he was everything you had.

The doorbell pulled you out of your thoughts. You walked to the door and opened it lazily. The moment he saw you, Bill wrapped his arms around you. You started crying again, making his shirt wet. He stroked my back.

"Everything will be ok, kid. It's gonna be ok. I'm gonna find who did this, I promise you."

In the next morning you woke up and sat on the bed. You took a look of the familiar room. Yes, it was familiar, but it wasn't your room. Oh, but of course, you was in Bill's home. Last night he suggested you to go with him so you would sleep better knowing that there's not the blood of your dead boyfriend all over the kitchen.

You got up and went downstairs. You saw a note on the table in the kitchen.

 _"Hi (Y/N). I had to leave for work._  
 _I didn't want to wake you up. You_  
 _definitely need a good rest. There_  
 _are pancakes in the microwave._  
 _Make yourself home and don't worry_  
 _about anything. It's gonna be alright,_  
 _kid. See you later._  
 _Love,_  
 _Bill xo"_

You smiled lightly and look at the clock on the wall. Oh, dear! It was 11:16 am! You'd been sleeping for what seemed as an eternity. You went to take the pancakes and then you heard the front door being open with a loud bang. Then you saw a few men in uniforms pointing their guns at you. One of them said:

"Freeze! You are under arrest for the murder of Mark Stewart! You have the right to remain silent! Anything you say could be used against you!"


	2. Chapter 2

What?! You were under arrest? Were they kidding you? How could they think that you would do such a thing?! You loved Mark, he was everything, he was your world. You couldn't murder him, you couldn't murder anyone or anything. You couldn't even kill a damn fly. No! That must have been some kind of a gross nightmare.

Two of the officers took you out of Bill's house and led you to one of the police cars. You got into the car. You were so scared that your whole body was shaking. The ride to the police station was quiet, too quiet. It felt as if you were travelling for ages. When you got to the police station, Bill was the first one you saw. You tried to go to him and hug him but the officers wouldn't allow it.

"Bill! I-I didn't – I didn't – ", you said through your sobs.

"Listen (Y/N), I know it is not your fault. OK? Just calm down. I'll fix this misunderstanding," he said and the officers took you.

One tall, blonde, dark-eyed man led you to one of the interrogation rooms, told you to stay still and left, leaving you alone in that dark room. You had never imagined that you would stay at the other side of the table, that you would be the questioned one. Oh, God! Was that some kind of a joke? It was so quiet and dark. You tried so hard to stay calm. You did. But you couldn't stop thinking about Mark's cold lifeless body and all that blood all over the kitchen. C'mon! Bill knew you wouldn't do it, he knew you couldn't.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a voice. It was Bill's.

"Please, Tom. Just let me talk to her. She's scared," he said.

"I'm sorry Bill, but you're too close to each other. I can't let you do this," the other man answered, "I will talk to her."

Then he entered the room. The same man from what seemed like ages ago.

"So, (Y/N). I can call you (Y/N), right?" he asked nicely.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever."

"OK, so, why don't you tell me what happened last night?"

You knew that there was no point in arguing with that cop. You took a breath and said: "I was at our apartment. I was watching TV, then I heard a weird sound. I thought it was Mark. When I went to the kitchen I saw his body," a single tear rolled down your cheek.

"Are you able to prove what you're saying is the truth?" he asked. Was he serious?!

"What? I-I… No. I m-mean… Are you serious? How can I prove that I've been watching a stupid show the whole evening and that I did not killed Mark - the man I was in love with, by the way?" the situation was starting to piss you off and it wasn't any good, but you couldn't take it anymore, "Excuse me, officer, but I don't have any security cameras installed in my living room or kitchen. Mark and I didn't want to be recorded while having wild sex all over the house."

"I'm sorry, (Y/N), but in that case you are still the main suspect," he said and left the small room.

"Are you kidding me? Don't leave me here, you fucking bastard! You hear me? Come back!" you were yelling but the things only got worse.

Four hours later you were sitting on a small, uncomfortable, dirty bed in one of the cells at the police station. You didn't know what to do. Everyone believed that you were Mark's murderer. Maybe even Bill? You wanted to cry but you were too tired even for that. Then you heard footsteps and got up. It was Bill.

"Hey, (Y/N), I think I know what has happened last night," he said, you'd never seen him like this before.

"You do? Tell me! Please!" you were so impatient.

"OK, but I need you to listen very carefully," you nodded, and he continued, "I know a guy who might know what killed Mark…"

"No, please, no. Don't do this to me, Bill. Don't say 'what'! It is 'who', right? Please, tell me you're not going mad like my father did," you were crying.

"Shhh. I know it's hard for you, but you need to listen to him," you were totally confused, who was 'he', "Promise me that you are going to listen to him."

Who the hell was Bill talking about?!

Just then, he showed himself from behind the dark corner. A male figure, about 6 feet tall, clothed in an elegant FBI suit. His eyes were sparkling in a kind of magical way. He had his poker face on, but it still was the most perfectly shaped face you had ever seen. This man was truly beautiful, probably the most handsome man in the whole Universe. But the minute you saw him, you were paralyzed. It was him. There he was, in all his gorgeousness, Dean Winchester himself.

2


End file.
